Jarnün Daughter of None
by PineconeChild1
Summary: Jarnün, Daughter of Carvahall, is thrown into a world of dragons and wars by simply picking up a magical stone in the Spine, while out hunting with her closest friend, Eragon. Can she discover who she really is? Will they be able to complete the quest they must follow? And at what cost?
1. chapter 1

Eragon knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told him that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed down. His target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. He was amazed she had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching her.

Beside him knelt a girl about his age. She too studied the prints with care. Delicate waves of ebony hair were twisted in a french plait down her back. Her face was naturally the colour of fresh straw, with defined, slanting features and was thinly sculpted. Sharp brows perched upon her unusually violet, cat-like eyes. Her visible ears were unnaturally pointed.

She wore soft, leather boots, a weathered olive tunic and patched chestnut leggings. Pinning stray strands from her face, was a thin leather band, resting like a noblewoman's circlet. Slung across her back was a black tube, encasing a hand carved yew bow.

The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded them, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor, almost thick enough to obscure their feet.

Eragon was fifteen, less than a year from manhood. Dark eyebrows rested above his intense brown eyes. His clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew bow from the mist. He carried a wood-frame pack.

Jarnün was fifteen as well. She, like Eragon, carried a hunting knife sheathed in her belt and a long quiver on her right hip.

The deer had led them deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaësia. Strange tales and men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Eragon and Jarnün did not fear the Spine—they were the only hunters near or from Carvahall who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses.

It was the third night of the hunt, and their food was half gone. If Eragon did not fell the doe, he would be forced to return home empty-handed. His family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall. Jarnün always accompanied him on his trips to help provide his family with full stomachs over the bleak months. She had no need of the deer in the spine as her household could afford the expense in Carvahall.

Eragon stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a glen where he was sure the deer would rest. Jarnün followed swiftly behind him. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. She looked at the tracks only occasionally; she knew the way.

At the glen, he strung his bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in his left hand. Like a mirror, Jarnün parroted his move and nocked a goose feather arrow. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe Eragon wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.

Jarnün steadily slipped closer, towards a young buck with a broken right antler. He rested near the front of the herd.

Eragon slowly crept closer to his prey, keeping the bow ready. Jarnün inched closer to her victim. All their work of the past three days had led to this moment. They each took a last steadying breath and—an explosion shattered the night.

The herd bolted. Eragon lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past his cheek. With unmatchable speed, Jarnün drew her knife and hurled it after the escaping buck. It sliced down his left back leg before landing in the grass metres behind. Instantly, she strung a second arrow onto her bow. Eragon slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. It missed by a finger's breadth and hissed into darkness. He cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.

Behind them, where the deer had been, smoldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius lay two polished stones: one blue, one white. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stones.

Eragon and Jarnün watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, Eragon released the tension from his bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast him in pale shadow as he stopped before the stones. He nudged one with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warily picked it up.

Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one. Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have.

After seeing Eragon, Jarnün attentively walked towards the charred area and poked the remaining stone, before picking it up in her small hands. Like the blue, the white stone was extraordinarily smooth. It's flawless surface was a vibrant white, excluding the violet veins that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was smooth and frictionless upon her fingers, and almost seemed to slip from her hands. Her stone, like Eragon's, was oval but slightly larger than his, and also weighed less than it should have.

Eragon found the stones both beautiful and frightening. _Where did they come from? Do they have a purpose?_ Then a more disturbing thought came to him: _Were they sent here by accident, or are we meant to have them?_ If he had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.

 _But what should I do with my stone?_ It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand. _At the very least, it might pay for some food_ , he decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into his pack.

"Where are you going?" Jarnün whispered.

Eragon turned to look at her and quietly replied, "We might as well keep the stones; they could be worth something. I picked the blue and you picked the white, so it's only fair that you get to keep yours."

Smiling slightly, she nodded in agreement and slowly stood to her feet while cradling the stone. Softly, she walked to the bush she had left her pack in and carefully stored the stone in it. Afterwards, Jarnün returned to the glen.

"I will go find the buck I was tracking." She stated, startling Eragon.

"Why?"

"I hit its back leg with my knife so it won't have run very far and it's trail will be easy to follow."

"Okay." Eragon replied while she stared following the buck's escape route.

When she returned, Jarnün carried the young deer over her shoulders which Eragon took from her and tied to his pack.

"We can take it in turns to carry it." She stated.

"It's fine, I can carry it myself." He replied.

"No. We should take it in turns because it is too heavy to carry by yourself for the whole journey."

"If you insist."

The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so they slipped back into the forest and spread their bedrolls beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, they wrapped themselves in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold. Ice edged the streams, and small pools were completely frozen over. After a breakfast of porridge, Jarnün returned to the glen and examined the charred area. The morning light revealed no new details, so she retreated and started for home.

The rough game trail was faintly worn and, in places, nonexistent. Because it had been forged by animals, it often backtracked and took long detours. Yet for all its flaws, it was still the fastest way out of the mountains.

The Spine was one of the only places that King Galbatorix could not call his own. Stories were still told about how half his army disappeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of misfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it. Though the trees grew tall and the sky shone brightly, few people could stay in the Spine for long without suffering an accident. Eragon and Jarnün were two of those few—not through any particular gift, it seemed to them, but because of persistent vigilance and sharp reflexes. They had hiked in the mountains for years, yet they were still wary of them. Every time they thought the mountains had surrendered their secrets, something happened to upset their understanding of them—like the stones' appearances.

They kept up a brisk pace, and the leagues steadily disappeared. In late evening they arrived at the edge of a precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed by far below, heading to Palancar Valley. Gorged with hundreds of tiny streams, the river was a brute force, battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. A low rumble filled the air.

They camped in a thicket near the ravine and watched the moonrise before going to bed.

It grew colder over the next day and a half. Eragon and Jarnün traveled quickly and saw little of the wary wildlife. A bit past noon, she heard the Igualda Falls blanketing everything with the dull sound of a thousand splashes; they were close now. The trail led them onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into empty air and down mossy cliffs.

Before them lay Palancar Valley, exposed like an unrolled map. The base of the Igualda Falls, more than a half-mile below, was the northernmost point of the valley. A little ways from the falls was Carvahall, a cluster of brown buildings. White smoke rose from the chimneys, defiant of the wilderness around it. At this height, farms were small square patches no bigger than the end of his finger. The land around them was tan or sandy, where dead grass swayed in the wind. The Anora River wound from the falls toward Palancar's southern end, reflecting great strips of sunlight. Far in the distance it flowed past the village Therinsford and the lonely mountain Utgard. Beyond that, they knew only that it turned north and ran to the sea.

After a pause, Eragon left the outcropping and started down the trail, grimacing at the descent. Moments later, Jarnün followed and began the downhill trek. When they arrived at the bottom, soft dusk was creeping over everything, blurring colors and shapes into gray masses. Carvahall's lights shimmered nearby in the twilight; the houses cast long shadows. Aside from Therinsford, Carvahall was the only village in Palancar Valley. The settlement was secluded and surrounded by harsh, beautiful land. Few traveled here except merchants and trappers.

The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs—some thatched, others shingled. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, giving the air a woody smell. The buildings had wide porches where people gathered to talk and conduct business. Occasionally a window brightened as a candle or lamp was lit. Eragon and Jarnün heard men talking loudly in the evening air while wives scurried to fetch their husbands, scolding them for being late.

As they reached the edge of Carvahall, Jarnün slowed to a stop and removed her pack from her shoulder. Carefully, she untied the dead buck from the back of her pack and handed it to Eragon.

"Here, you can have this."

"Are you sure? I'm sure I can trade a fair bit with my stone."

"It's okay. I want you to have it. Father can buy meat from Sloan anyway."

"Very well, although Garrow won't be pleased."

"Is he ever?" She smiled jokingly. Jarnün turned to leave and faced towards a two storey building, overlooking the mountains.

"Jarna?" She looked over her right shoulder attentively.

"Do you want to come with me?" Eragon smiled cheekily.

"Sorry I can't mother and father are expecting me. You know what they're like; they don't approve of me going out hunting. It's unladylike - apparently."

"Excuses. I think you just want to miss seeing Sloan."

"Maybe I do." She replied sarcastically, continuing to walk towards her home.

Eragon shook his head, "Goodbye Jarna."

"Farewell Eragon."

Eragon wove his way between the houses to the butcher's shop, a broad, thick-beamed building. Overhead, the chimney belched black smoke.

Meanwhile, Jarnün wandered up to her home and knocked on the door. A woman answered. Honey blonde locks flowed down her shoulders and her livid blue-grey eyes sparkled happily the sight of her daughter.

"Mother!" She tightly embraced her lovingly,"I have missed you."

"And I you, Jarna." Elaine whispered gently.

A tall, hulking figure materialised in the doorway. Horst bore a shaggy mane of wild black hair and a carelessly trimmed matching beard. Although it was late evening, Horst still wore his scarred blacksmiths apron and his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.

"Jarna! It's good to see you again. How faired your trip?" He exclaimed, smiling.

"It was alright, although we could have done better." She replied. When they both looked at her expectantly, she added, "I shall explain inside over a good meal."

And so over a warming supper of soup, fresh bread and creamy butter, Jarna told of her adventures in the Spine, (although she skipped the magical appearance of the stone) - ending with presenting her discovery.

"It's beautiful." Elain whispered breathlessly, "When did you find it?"

"Two nights ago." She replied, "Eragon has one as well, but his is blue with white veins... Can I keep it?"

"Of course you can. It's just a pretty stone." Horst answered. After a glance out the window, he sighed and stated, "Come on, it's getting late. You better go to bed."

Jarnün frowned, but nevertheless, she stood and said her goodnight. As she began to trudge up the varnished oaken staircase, a young woman burst through the front door.

"Horst!" She exclaimed, exhausted from running, "Father and Eragon are in an argument. Come quick!" She gasped between breaths.

Horst followed her when she turned fled out the room. Jarnün jumped down the stairs that were obstructing her from the floor and sped after them. The trio hurried through the village towards the butcher's shop. As she had good hearing, Jarnün could hear the fight before they had arrived.

"You refuse to sell to me!" She heard Eragon scream with vehemence she heard rarely.

"Yes! Unless you pay with coins," Sloan growled, "Go, before I make you!"

Suddenly, Horst slammed open the door. Eragon whirled around, ready for more trouble. Sloan's daughter, Katrina—a tall girl of sixteen—trailed behind him with a determined expression. Eragon's surprise at her involvement was surpressed after a moment; she usually absented herself from any arguments involving her father. Sloan glanced at them warily, then started to accuse Eragon. "He won't—"

"Quiet," announced Horst in a rumbling voice, cracking his knuckles at the same time. "Sloan, what have you done now?"

"Nothing." He gave Eragon a murderous gaze, then spat, "This . . .boy came in here and started badgering me. I asked him to leave, but he won't budge. I even threatened him and he still ignored me!" Sloan seemed to shrink as he looked at Horst. He was grasping a bloodstained knife with a cut finger.

"Is this true?" demanded the smith.

"No!" replied Eragon. "I offered this stone as payment for some meat, and he accepted it. When I told him that I'd found it in the Spine, he refused to even touch it. What difference does it make where it came from?"

Horst looked at the stone curiously, then returned his attention to the butcher. But before he utttered a word Jarnün stepped forward and stated, "Why won't you trade with him, Sloan? I've no particular love for the Spine myself, but if it's a question of the stone's worth, I'll back it with my own money."

The question hung in the air for a moment. Then Sloan licked his lips and said, "This is my own store. I can do whatever I want."

Katrina stepped out from behind Horst and tossed back her auburn hair like a spray of molten copper. "Father, Eragon is willing to pay. Give him the meat, and then we can have supper."

Sloan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Go back to the house; this is none of your business. . . . I said go !" Katrina's face hardened, then she marched out of the room with a stiff back.

Jarnün watched angrily but dared not interfere. Horst tugged at his beard before saying reproachfully, "Fine, you can deal with me. What were you going to get, Eragon?" His voice reverberated through the room.

"As much as I could."

Horst pulled out a purse and counted out a pile of coins. "Give me your best roasts and steaks. Make sure that it's enough to fill Eragon's pack." The butcher hesitated, his gaze darting between Horst and Eragon. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," stated Horst.

Glowering venomously, Sloan slipped into the back room. A frenzy of chopping, wrapping, and low cursing reached them. After several uncomfortable minutes, he returned with an armful of wrapped meat. His face was expressionless as he accepted Horst's money, then proceeded to clean his knife, pretending that they were not there.

Horst scooped up the meat and walked outside. Eragon hurried behind him, carrying his pack and the stone. The crisp night air rolled over their faces, refreshing after the stuffy shop.

"Thank you, Horst. Uncle Garrow will be pleased."

Horst laughed quietly. "Don't thank me. I've wanted to do that for a long time. Sloan's a vicious troublemaker; it does him good to be humbled. Katrina heard what was happening and ran to fetch me. Good thing I came—the two of you were almost at blows. Unfortunately, I doubt he'll serve you or any of your family the next time you go in there, even if you do have coins."

Jarnün appeared by his side and asked, "Why did he explode like that? We've never been friendly, but he's always taken our money. And I've never seen him treat Katrina that way,"

Horst shrugged. "Ask Garrow. He knows more about it than I do."

Eragon stuffed the meat into his pack. "Well, now I have one more reason to hurry home . . . to solve this mystery. Here, this is rightfully yours." He proffered the stone.

Horst chuckled. "No, you keep your strange rock. As for payment, Albriech plans to leave for Feinster next spring. He wants to become a master smith, and I'm going to need an assistant. You can come and work off the debt on your spare days."

Eragon bowed slightly, delighted. Horst had two sons, Albriech and Baldor, both of whom worked in his forge. Taking one's place was a generous offer. "Again, thank you! I look forward to working with you." He was glad that there was a way for him to pay Horst. His uncle would never accept charity.

"Hey, what about me?" Jarnün complained, offended. "Why can't I replace Al?"

Exasperated, Horst sighed, "We've discussed this before. The forge is no place for a lady like yourself. Dressed as you are annoyed your mother enough and hunting trips to the Spine was crossing the line. But forging? That's just too far - even I agree."

Eragon looked in the opposite direction awkwardly. When they had finished talking, he remembered what his cousin had told him before he had left on the hunt. But when he looked up to relay his message, he noticed that Horst had begun walking back to his home. "Roran wanted me to give Katrina a message, but since I can't, can you get it to her?"

"Of course." Jarnün answered.

"He wants her to know that he'll come into town as soon as the merchants arrive and that he will see her then."

"That all?"

Eragon was slightly embarrassed. "No, he also wants her to know that she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and that he thinks of nothing else."

Her face broke into a beautiful smile, and she winked at Eragon. "Getting serious, isn't he?"

"Yes," Eragon answered with a quick smile. "Could you also give her my thanks? It was nice of her to stand up to her father for me. I hope that she isn't punished because of it. Roran would be furious if I got her into trouble."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Sloan doesn't know that she came to get father, so I doubt he'll be too hard on her. Before you go, will you sup with us?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Garrow is expecting me," said Eragon, tying off the top of the pack. He hoisted it onto his back and started down the road, raising his hand in farewell.

Jarnün watched Eragon until he left the village, before leaving for her home once again.

She opened her bedroom door and carefully hung her bow on the post. The moon gleamed through a gap in the curtains. She cradled the white stone in her arms, like a newborn baby. Shining in the silvery light, it glistened with a newfound beauty. The veins shimmered like a pearl and the vibrant white surface radiated like soft light.

Jarnün lay it lovingly on a cushion by her bed and instantly fell into a slumber as soon as she collided with her bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hi readers! I'm really sorry that this chapter took so long to upload, but hopefully the others won't take quite as long because it's the holidays next week. Thanks for understanding and here's the next chapter.**

The sun shone through a gap in a pair of hide curtains. A golden arm draped over the edge of a large bed in Horst's home. Jarnün could feel the weak warmth of the winter sun shining upon her feline face. Her midnight black hair sprawled across her pillow like a delicate fan. She gently opened her slightly almond shaped eyes, as a bird would beat its wings. She stretched elegantly and covered her mouth as she yawned.

It had been several days since her return from the Spine and the winter had approached rapidly. Over the previous days, the snow had suddenly fallen and enveloped the ground in a thick blanket of white. Unfortunately, Jarnün had be unable to meet with Eragon. She knew that he was forced to stay on his farm, because the snow would freeze the remainder of the harvest that needed to be collected. Obviously, Jarnün had wanted to assist Eragon, Roran and Garrow, however her father had forced her to leave them be.

 _"Leave them be Jarna." Horst stated._

 _Diligently, Jarnün persisted, "But why? I want to see Eragon, and you know I don't get on with the other girls."_

 _Horst sighed heavily and argued, "Jarna, this is their job and their work. If you interfere, then Garrow will feel obliged to return the favor. You and I both know he dislikes charity."_

 _But Jarnün didn't care what her father thought, or even what Garrow thought. For years, she had hung around their farm; especially when they had lived in Carvahall. Marian was still living then, and Elafire and Murt-_

She jerked away from the memory. She couldn't think about them - not now. Deep emotion coursed through her body. She released shaky breaths as she steadied her breathing. Just the thought of what was, tore her heart to shreds.

Distracting herself, Jarnün glanced at the stone. The iridescent surface gleaned like opalite in the morning sun. The stone was white, but when the sun caught it, it shimmered with a violet sheen. Smooth, the flawless surface was cool to the touch. Jarnün loved the stone. It strangely provided comfort when she felt alone and with it, she felt whole. She always felt the need to protect the stone from harm and even from her family. It was precious, fragile perhaps, and to be treasured. _Maybe that is why it was sent_ , she reflected. _The person who cared for it was no longer able to_.

She gently flicked the stone and listened wistfully as a soft ring echoed around her room. The sound was angelic and provided the harmony for her soul. She was incomplete without her stone. Strangely, she always felt alone without it beside her. Almost as alone as she felt without Eragon.

 _Eragon_ , she mused. He was her best friend - there was no doubt about that. But her family had always wondered whether they would be together. Occasionally, her mind would wander to what could be in the future. In ways she would see herself with him, but it would always feel wrong somehow. Although if she had to choose, she knew she would choose him. A wave of sadness overcame her. Jarnün was alone without him beside her.

But this week was different. Jarnün leapt out of bed energetically as she remembered. She dressed into an olive green dress and quickly dashed down the oaken staircase, jumping the last three. Swiftly, Jarnün dined with her family, the meal consisting of a warming porridge.

Together, the family left their home and strolled through Carvahall leisurely on the fine winter's morning. The traders had finally arrived and the whole of Carvahall seemed alive. Everyone was bustling about carrying their wares and attempting to attract the eager eyes of the traders. Jarnün smiled. The arrival of the traders brought the villagers of Carvahall hope - hope that they would be able to survive through the winter. She also knew that Eragon would be returning to town, with his uncle and cousin, to exchange his excess harvest for (hopefully) crowns.

Shortly, the family arrived at the field the traders occupied just outside the village. Many of the villagers had already arrived, including Eragon, Roran and Garrow. Roran had appeared to have already vanished. _Probably to find Katrina_ , Jarnun thought. As her family departed to sell their wares, Jarnun wandered over to where Garrow and Eragon stood.

"Good morning Garrow." she stated.

"Good morning Jarna." he replied warmly.

"Did Eragon show you his stone?"

"Indeed he did. We are going to attempt to sell it."

Slightly upset, but not revealing it, Jarnun responded, "I hope it is worth something."

"Me too." They walked briskly away and Jarnun was left standing alone. She left the spot she was standing in and began to examine the countless stalls.

* * *

It wasn't until later that she met with Eragon again.

 _Jarnün was bored. She had wandered into Morn's tavern and listened to the incorrect stories_ _from two of the traders. They talked about how Galbatorix was good and the Varden were disturbing the peace of Alagaësia. She scoffed at their remarks. The people of Carvahall all shared a hatred for the dark king. He had never helped them during harsh winters, when they were starving to death. He didn't care that families were torn apart when his men came for young men to be his soldiers. So why should they care for him?_

 _She then noticed that at some point Eragon had slipped in without her noticing as he stepped forwards, making his presence_ _known._

 _"How do you know this? I can say that clouds are green, but that doesn't mean it's true. Prove you aren't lying."_

 _The two traders glared at him darkly and continued on with their rambling when someone else asked them as well._

 _In anger, he turned_ _and left to the bar. Jarnün waited a few minutes and listened to the scheming traders, then approached him. His brows were furrowed and thin creases stretched across his forehead. Jarnün, knowing him well, could tell he was deep in thought._

 _"Hello Eragon." She whispered in his ear. The action caused him to jump and he turned to face her._

 _"You scared me!_ _But hello."_

 _"I know I did you idiot!" She giggled, "But you face was priceless!" Her giggles turned to laughs as she kept the image of his reaction in her mind. Eventually she regained composure and they began to talk about what had occurred to them._

 _Afterwards they left together and made their way to Jarnün's home. Horst was hosting a grand dinner for many of the villagers to attend, including Eragon, Garrow and Roran._

 _The meal was delicious. Roasted meats of all kind and plenty of vegetables to go with it. The roast was perfect. Jarnün had always loved her mother's roasts, but this annual meal was always her favourite._

 _When the food was gone, the villagers gradually congregated in the field where the traders were, to enjoy the various performances the evening would hold._

* * *

Softly, the evening sun shimmered over the hills as the sky slowly changed into a conflagration of gentle pinks and soft oranges. With evening arriving, the traders would now entertain the villagers with Brom ending the night with a fantastic tale.

Troubadours dressed in tasseled clothing exited their tent, closely followed by older and stately minstrels. The minstrels sung and narrated the tales that the younger troubadours performed. They earned several laughs as their plays were purely entertainment and comedy.

Later, as the candles began to dim, the old storyteller stepped forwards as the troubadours and minstrels retreated. A pitch black cape embraced his body and his long white beard rippled over his chest. He spread his arms wide and reached out with his hands like claws. He recited thus:

"The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not . . . but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us."

His keen eyes inspected their interested faces; his gaze lingered on Jarnün and Eragon, who stood side by side.

"Before your grandfathers' fathers were born, and yea, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them. For good only were their powers used, and under their tutelage tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends. Wealth flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep . . . for it could not last."

He silenced and glanced down, like he was in mourning. Unending sadness laced his every word. He returned his gaze to his audience, then continued. And so Brom's terrible tale was told.

"You are lucky," Garrow spoke when the story was finished, "I have only heard this tale twice in my life. If the Empire knew Brom had delivered this speech, he would not life to see another spring."

* * *

The white stone glimmered on Jarnün's blankets. She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her beautiful stone. The purple veins danced across the vibrant white surface. Sunlight reflected off the crystal-like stone and an array of violets and whites glimmered in the room.

The soft twilight outside slowly began to darken until the sky was a blanket of midnight blue. Bright stars twinkled like tiny diamonds and the moon beamed. The cloudless night was cool and an occasional breeze blew in through Jarnün's curtains. One such breeze blew in and caused her to shiver and glance cautiously towards her now open curtains.

With a sigh, Jarnün rose and closed the drapes. She gazed at the stars, mentally naming a few of them and of constellations. She enjoyed stargazing. Brom had talked to her for many hours about the stars and constellations. _They are beautiful_ , she speculated. Sighing again, Jarnün turned and climbed onto her bed. Delicately, she placed the stone back on the cushion by her bed and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

 _Hues of oranges and pinks flared across the sky. Waves of blues washed beneath me. Occasionally the ripples capped, the white prominent. The neverending waters seem to last for an eternity, but as I looked up, I sighted a thin strip of browns and greens that rose above the water. My sight was magnified somehow and what I was seeing was actually several leagues away._

 _At my discovery a sped up. The wind whipped beneath me and pushed me on, as if it wanted me to go there. I was travelling at incredible speed._

 _As I drew nearer the coloured blurs became focused. And my eyes clapped upon an island - home._

Jarnün woke with a start. The dream had seemed so real. She really had felt the wind beneath her, smelt the strong brine and seen the island. It disturbed her. Never in her life - or anyone in Carvahall - had seen that much water. _It had to be the ocean_ , she realised.

A sound suddenly resonated around the room. Then a rattle and silence. Something wasn't right. The note sounded again, this time louder. The rattle lasted for several seconds which gave Jarnün enough time to discover the source - the stone.

Once it had silenced, she carefully climbed out of her bed. Silently, Jarnün crept towards the satin cushion that the stone lay upon and nudged the edge with her toe. Nothing happened. As to not disturb the now peaceful stone, she delicately picked up the cushion and shuffled towards her bed. The movement seemed to awake the stone as it suddenly rattled and shook so violently, it toppled from the cushion. It landed with an enormous thump on Jarnün's bed.

She froze for several minutes, hoping beyond hope that the noise hadn't awoken anyone. Fortunately, luck was on her side because nobody came. By the time she moved to examine the stone, it had already stopped shaking.

Lovingly, Jarnün laid her golden hand on the smooth surface. Instead of the cool watery texture, the white stone was warm, almost hot, to touch. As she removed her hand quickly, the stone shook again but when it stopped a sharp crack could be heard. Down one of the violet veins a fine crack had appeared. Repeatedly the stone shook more vigorously and cracked deeper each time.

During the time the stone was cracking, squeaks cried from it. The stone was alive!

When the cracks met the squeaking became louder and finally the lid of the stone lifted off, revealing a small head and strangely angled body. It slowly toppled the stone and crawled out of it.

Jarnün gasped. Sitting on her bed was a dragon.


	4. Chapter 4

_An egg!_ Jarnün deduced, shocked. _A dragon egg! How is this possible? Why on earth would someone have a dragon egg? I thought they went extinct years ago. But if I have an egg, maybe the king is looking for it. I can't tell anyone - I can't put Carvahall in danger!_

Silently, Jarnün slipped a tunic and leggings over her bedclothes. By her door, Jarna grabbed her bow and slung it across her back along with a quiver of feathered arrows. Hurriedly opening her wardrobe, she grabbed a large cloth laying on top of the pile and returned to her bed. Meanwhile, the dragon had climbed the bedpost and perched, watching the early embers of sunrise. As Jarna came closer it turned its head to face and elegantly jumped down from the bedpost. Like a cat, the dragon crept towards her. Curiosity shined in its electric purple eyes, but also a strange warmth.

Abruptly, it stepped forwards to sniff her. Shocked, Jarna flinched back and dropped the cloth over the dragon's angled body. Hurriedly, she scooped up the bundle and tiptoed down the varnished staircase and sneaked out the door, grabbing some dried meat on the way.

Chilling, the early morning was silent and crisp. Frozen dew crunched beneath Jarnün's careful feet and her breath clouded the surrounding air. She trotted down the slight hill her home perched and vaulted towards the Spine. Swiftly, Jarna ran as far and as fast as her body would allow her to. Eventually, she halted due to exhaustion. The bundle in her arms had writhed to begin with but had soon settled. Curiously, the girl lifted the edge of the blanket and discovered the dragon had fallen into a slumber.

As she returned her gaze to the sky, Jarnun realised light was beginning to fill the land. _I must hurry_ , she thought hastily, _if I am not back soon then my family will know I was missing!_ With that she began her hurried sprint into the Spine.

* * *

A few hours later, Jarna had set up a small shelter deep inside the Spine; using sticks, the cloth, moss, leaves and mud, she had constructed a small home big enough for the dragon to stay inside. It was high in a fork in the trees to protect the young dragon from predators and so it could perch on the branches as it did on her bedpost.

Gingerly, Jarnün chucked a chunk of dried meat into the shelter. The dragon crawled forwards and sniffed the meal, before snapping it up. Again, she dropped another piece in the shelter, but this time moved slightly closer. The dragon snapped it up with gusto. Smiling, Jarna proffered a third piece to the dragon, who grabbed it from her fingers. Eventually, the only evidence there was any food was the bulge in the white dragon's stomach. Hoping for more, the creature moved forwards and sniffed Jarnün's hand. Still feeling somewhat uneasy around the hatchling, she flinched and moved her hand away.

After her heart had returned to its normal speed, Jarnün gradually inched her hand closer to the dragon. When her fingertips were a couple of inches from its scaly nose, the small creature crawled forwards again. This time Jarna allowed it to sniff her. Tentatively, she reached forwards to touch the vibrant white scales on the dragon's triangular head. She could not have expected what would happen next.

Unanticipated, the dragon surged forwards and pressed its brow into her outstretched palm. Suddenly, an ice cold force streamed through Jarna's left palm. It flowed through her paralysed form and spread over her entire being. After awhile the sensation emptied back through her left palm and warmth seeped through her again. Breathless, Jarnün sat up and studied her palm. It seemed perfectly healthy, except for the silvery mark scorched into her hand.

Curiously, she gazed at the dragon and reached forward again. This time, the contact did not render her paralysed. The luminous scales were cool and smooth under her fingertips, but she could also sense how hard and solid they were - like armour. As she gently stroked the young creature, she suddenly felt happiness emanating from a void in her mind. Exposed, she pushed away from the vacuum and returned to her own emotions.

She looked around her. This part of the Spine was beautiful. Even though it was said to traumatizing, Jarnün found the mountains strangely tranquil. Brightly, the sun beamed and although it was winter, she could not feel the chilling cold.

Leaving the dragon, she walked forwards to a ledge that overhung an extraordinary valley. Tributaries tumbled into waterfalls, that cascaded into rivers, that flowed through the emerald sea of trees. Dawn birdsong harmonized with the mellifluous voice of nature. Grey brown jagged mountains encircled the serene basin; pure white snow lined their distant peaks. Cumulus clouds drifted over the valley. The scent of fresh grass, lush trees and crystal water enticed her nostrils. This valley was full of life, a completely different world from the bottom of the Spine.

The ledge she perched on was made of three dirty grey slabs, with two slightly thinner ones stuck at an angle. A pine tree grew on one of the base ones, whose roots formed a strong lattice and coiled, (like a snake), around it. Mesmerised, Jarna climbed onto the tip of the furthest angled rock and sat cross-legged on it. The weak winter sun warmed her face slightly. Water vapour from the waterfalls occasionally reached her, when the wind whisked it upwards.

Jarnün felt the entity again and the urge to look to her left. The dragon had crawled next to her and now they perched side by side. Like a dog, it rested on its hind legs and held itself up with its front. Its long tail curled around it and the wings were folded against its back. The dragon's scales shone their vibrant white and glistened with their violet, opalescent sheen. Its purple eyes closed in sheer bliss and its tongue lolled as the breeze washed over it.

Spray splashed them and the wind cooled them.

This was their sanctuary - their secret world to themselves. It was all for them - together.

 **Hi readers! I'm so sorry it has taken sooo long to get this chapter out. I have been really busy with school and stuff lately. I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I hope you can understand. Thank you so much for the patience and I hope this chapter has lived to your expectations! Enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi readers! Here's another chapter and I surprised myself at how quickly it was written. Enjoy!**

Quickly, Jarnün ran up the hill to her home. It was now almost midday and she was just returning after leaving her dragon in the Spine.

 _After staying on the ledge for a while, Jarna scooped up the dragon and placed it in the shelter. As she began the long trek through the mountains, it began to whine and sadness filled her mind. She returned to the dragon and stroked it to calm it down. Using the link in her mind, Jarna attempted to tell the young creature to stay in the shelter until she came back. Soon the dragon understood, but as she walked away she could still feel the loneliness emanating from the void in her mind._

 _The hike back was uneventful and extremely exhausting. Whenever she could, Jarna sprinted through the deer trails. Her stamina was high, but even she could not run forever..._

Panting slightly, she crouched down at the top of the hill. No one she had met had asked where she had been - until she entered her home.

Quietly, she opened the door and closed it, however it wasn't quiet enough.

"Where on _earth_ have you been?"

Jarnün turned to be met with the enraged face of her mother. She carried on, "No note, no nothing! You could be dead for all we knew! All we found was your bedroom a mess and a little less meat! Explain yourself!"

Rather hesitantly, she replied, "I went for a walk -"

"All night?" Elain questioned, exasperated.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I woke up just before dawn and felt like a bit of fresh air. The mess is because I was looking for a cloak and I took some meat as a snack. I guess I must've walked further than I thought."

She stared at her sceptically but didn't say anything. Elain turned around and walked back into the kitchen. Jarna walked up the stairs and into the doorway of her room. Her mother had been right; the room was a mess. She reached down and picked up a dull orange tunic. _Well I better start now_ , she concluded.

* * *

The family gathered around their polished oak dining table for their evening meal. Albriech and Baldor talked leisurely to one another and their father. Finally, Elain entered and took her seat, opposite Horst.

"So, Jarna where were you this morning?" Horst asked.

"I went for a walk, because I couldn't sleep."

"Why didn't you leave a note? Your mother and I were extremely worried."

Apologetically, she pleaded, "I forgot and I didn't think I would be gone as long as I was."

"Look, I know I let you off earlier but where did you go exactly?" Her mother interrupted.

"I don't know! I just went for a walk in the Sp -"

"You what!" Elain screamed, "You went in the Spine, even though I have forbidden you to go there?"

"Mother I go there every time I go hunting with Eragon!"

Silence hung over the table, like a dark cloud before a storm.

"You never told me that!", then to her husband, "You knew about this and you didn't think to tell me?"

Pausing first, Horst replied calmly, "I thought you had allowed her, and at least she doesn't go alone."

"Okay, but that's not my point. Anyway _you_ , " turning to Jarna, "went alone this time."

"So what? I didn't go as far as I do with Eragon." She lied. In fact she had gone farther than she had ever gone before.

"Look Jarna, we were worried about you. How would you feel if you woke up and discovered that your child was missing and hadn't told you where they had gone? The point is we woke up and you weren't there or anywhere in the village."

"I'm sorry." She mumbled apologetically.

Bursting out, Elain declared, "Well sorry's not good enough this time! You are grounded for the time being."

Jarnün could feel the anger bubbling inside of her, like water at boiling point. However, her straw coloured skin did not redden and her face remained neutral. Through her unreadable mask, Jarna could see that her father was slightly unnerved by her.

"Fine!" She hissed venomously. Then, she stormed from the table to her room.

Now she wouldn't be able to see Eragon - her best friend - or the little dragon that was too young to defend itself and bonded to her.

* * *

The next days were terrible. Jarna was trapped in Carvahall with nothing to do and was worrying every moment about her little dragon.

The day after her grounding, she had gone to Brom to borrow any books he had about dragons. She had managed to extract the information that dragons can survive a few weeks without food and water, which lessened her worry slightly.

To begin with, Jarna spent her free hours reading about dragons and studying with Brom. Her relationship with Brom was almost like a father and daughter; she felt he understood her more than her own parents. For years he had told anything she wanted to know about: how to read and write, the riders - anything she could think of. Before she was allowed to journey to Garrow's farm, she spent many hours each day with him.

* * *

 _"Morning Jarnün, and to what do I owe the pleasure?" The old man asked, politely._

 _"I was just wondering if I could borrow some of your books, because I am a little bored." She replied, as equally politely._

 _However, Brom could see through her lies easily, so he asked, "Grounded, more like?"._

 _She nodded her head. "How could you tell?"_

 _"Very well; please come in."_

 _Jarna selected as many dust covered books on dragons that she could find. As she flicked through a particularly dusty pile, she found an old book on the stars. Jarna loved the stars with passion and even had mapped her own star chart. Flicking through the old tome, Jarnün knew she had to take this book._

* * *

After a few hours, she returned home and locked herself in her studies. Instantly, she lost herself in the books. First, Jarna read through the dragon information that informed her of how long her dragon could survive without food and water. Secondly, she thoroughly read the star tome and added to her star chart.

The chart covered most of the inner wall that wasn't obstructed by the door. It was made of many pieces of cloth carefully sewn together; it was the only more feminine task that she had ever done happily and the stitching was impeccable. Her mother had often commented on how wonderful it was, when all her other sewing was 'a disgrace'. The fabric was a midnight blue shade and painted over the top were all of the stars, planets and galaxies. The chart was taken from the view of someone looking up at the sky. Constellations were carefully joined by a running stitch of silver thread. To her delight, Jarna had also made the chart so it could be taken down, folded up and transported anywhere.

However, as much as she enjoyed reading and studying the star chart, eventually she tired of the repetitiveness. Therefore that late afternoon, Jarna went to her father's forge and asked him to let her help him.

"Please!" she begged, "It's so boring staying at home; I have nothing to do, no friends to talk to and no job or purpose!"

"Jarna," Horst sighed, exasperated, "Your mother forbade you from leaving Carvahall, not going outside. There are other girls, you know."

Jarna averted her eyes, "I know there are other girls, father. But I'm not like them - I don't like girly things. I get on with boys better than with girls."

He sighed deeply again, "I'm sorry Jarna, but the forge is not the place for a woman."

"But-"

"No! Women are not meant to work in a forge, or farm, or mine, or fish, or hunt!" bellowed Horst, glaring at her darkly. "It's a wonder you are even allowed to go hunting! I am surprised that none of the villagers have ever mentioned it before." Jarna looked away from him, hurt. She couldn't believe that her father had admitted that she should not be allowed to do something she loved! Seeing that she was upset, Horst apologised, "I'm sorry Jarna, but that is how it is meant to be. If you are so bored then go ask your mother what you can do. She is a woman after all."

The following morning, Elain entered Jarna's room to find her sitting on the bed. "You know your father told me last night that you went to him at the forge." she waited for a reply that never came. "Jarna if you are bored you should tell me; I have many jobs you could do for me."

"Like what?" she mumbled, fiddling with her ebony hair.

"You could help me in the kitchen, or sew, or even clean. Although, I don't think you'll want to do the latter. Why don't you stitch up some clothes of your brothers' and father's? When you want to, you are an exemplary seamstress. Just look at this star map...thing."

"It's just, sewing is so boring."

Elain argued, "But why do you enjoy doing the star..."

"Chart." Jarnün corrected.

"Yes, why do you enjoy sewing the star chart so much?"

She sighed, "Because I like the stars. I don't like fixing clothes." she continued fiddling with her hair glumly.

That was the final straw for Elain, "Jarnün! Will you snap out of it! You are nearly sixteen years old, live in a wonderful house and have a wonderful family! Why are you acting so depressed? All I did was tell you not to leave the village, and for your own safety! The Spine is full of dangerous beasts - not to mention Urgals. Do you think I want to allow my child to enter an isolated, life-threatening place like that? Do you?"

"No..." she mumbled, "I guess not."

"Well, what would you like to do then?"

"I'll do some sewing." Jarna muttered.

The next few hours Jarna spent her time mending some clothes belonging to her brothers. The monotonous task irked her and more often that not, Jarna found herself gazing out of the window - praying for her torture to end.

As her family gathered around the dining table, Jarna helped her mother bring the evening meal to the table. After collecting a knife for the butter at her father's request, Jarna joined her family.

"You know Jarna," Elain began, "It has been nice to have you around for once."

"What do you mean?" she replied, calmly.

"Well, you haven't been going anywhere. When you were allowed to leave the village, we would never see you. You spent more time at Garrow's farm than here, with _your_ family."

Muttering sarcastically, she answered, "Well I have _really_ enjoyed myself." After that, Jarna continued to eat her meal. However, she could feel her mother's gaze boring into her.

* * *

Her hide curtains drifting in the gentle breeze, Jarna stood gazing towards the gloomy mountains that loomed over the village. Scanning her eyes over the hills, she thought of her friend whom she had not seen for so long. It must have been only a few weeks, but when you're alone it feels so much longer.

She glanced over each house naming each resident, before moving to the next. Jarna often did this; it somehow calmed her, as if it was a form of meditation. Finally and almost unwillingly, she stared at the final building just outside the village. Decrepit and uninhabited, the old farmhouse cowered into the hills, away from its surroundings. Inevitably, a tear escaped her eyes, slipping down her face.

 _She laughed happily. Running around in the meadows with her friends was her favourite past time. The sun shone down on the beautiful summer's day that it was. Even in the Spine, everyone could feel the heat that day._

 _The raven haired girl giggled too. Although a little older than the other, she enjoyed spending time with Jarna. They were laughing at the three boys wrestling nearby, one Jarna's age and the others older._

 _A couple sat in chairs in the shade of their porch, gazing contentedly at the five children. The cottage was almost as beautiful as Horst's large house. Sweet smelling plants wove their way up the white washed walls and arched over the polished oaken door._

 _The two girls skipped through the grasses and wild flowers of the meadow: content. Bees buzzed lazily and butterflies glided gracefully from blossom to blossom._

 _Soon the boys tired of wrestling and ran after the girls, chasing them across the fields. Until the raven haired boy tug her shoulder and then Jarna turned, bounding after her friends._

Tears flowed freely down her face. The unbearable pain drove a knife through her heart. The memories taunted her, spinning around her mind in a vicious circle. Shaking from the overwhelming grief, Jarna stumbled away from the windowsill and collapsed heavily onto her bed. After burying her face in the comforting pillow, she fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

After the third nightmare, Jarna sat up in bed, She began to slow her now rapid breathing, to a more regular pace. Suddenly, an image of the memory from earlier flashed inside her mind, and threatened to send a new wave or tears. Memories flickered across her vision, as she thought of everything that had happened since _that_ day. So much had changed.

Finally, Jarna thought of her dragon and how alone, defenseless and vulnerable it was. The worry was too much. Although she hated to admit it, she couldn't bare to be apart from Eragon or her dragon. She hadn't seen the dragon for mere days, but the feeling of loneliness was intolerable. _And Eragon_ , she reminisced, she hadn't seen him for weeks - maybe months - she couldn't remember. And she needed him right now; to comfort her in her grief. He, of all people, _understood_ how she felt at the moment.

Silently, she climbed out her bed. She rummaged through her wardrobe until she found her thickest tunics and leggings. Carefully, she tugged on a dark grey tunic and dull brown leggings, tied her ebony hair in french plait and filled her pack with the remaining items of clothing. Suddenly, she remembered the books she borrowed from Brom, and added them too. Checking everything she needed was in the pack, Jarna hoisted it on her back and shouldered her quiver. Halting, Jarna stared forlornly at her intricate star chart; she loved it dearly and wished she could take it with her. _I will be back one day,_ she thought, _I will definitely be back by spring. But right now, I will stay with my dragon - and maybe Eragon._ She delicately grasped the handle of her bone-white yew bow and left the room. She stopped at the larder and took: bread, fruit and dried meat. Rapidly, she folded each in napkins and wedged them in her now bulging pack.

Slowly, Jarna opened and closed the door, stepping into the soft moonlight. Shivering, she trotted down the hill and around the edges of Carvahall. Without hesitation she began the ascent of the large hill before her. It wasn't until she had reached its brow that Jarna looked back.

Carvahall was no more than glittering specks, but she could still make out her family's home. Regret swept through her, like a tsunami and sadness filled her lungs. Tears threatened to spill from her almond shaped eyes. However, deep down she knew that she couldn't stay - not while her dragon was alone in the wilderness. _My mother drove me to this_ , Jarna thought desperately, _she was the one that forbid me to leave Carvahall_. But there was still a nagging feeling inside of her, tugging her back towards the glimmering settlement.

"No," she whispered, "I cannot leave my dragon to die."

And so she continued.


End file.
